


God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen

by janto321 (FaceofMer)



Series: ACD Fics [25]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Anal Sex, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Smut, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Feels, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Reminiscing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-18 07:08:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21706945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/pseuds/janto321
Summary: We arrived home in the small hours of Christmas morning...
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Series: ACD Fics [25]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1368016
Comments: 40
Kudos: 147





	God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [smirkdoctor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smirkdoctor/gifts).
  * Translation into Русский available: [Пусть Бог подарит счастье вам](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22034314) by [Little_Unicorn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Unicorn/pseuds/Little_Unicorn)



It was late on Christmas Eve when Holmes and I finally wrapped up the latest case. Our grateful hosts offered to put us up for the night, but instead we caught the last train to London, sitting close to one another, mindful of the presence of others, but basking in the comfort of one another’s presence and the knowledge of a job well done.

The hours were small when we arrived back at Baker Street, the fire banked against our arrival. “Merry Christmas,” I said, unwinding my scarf.

“Merry Christmas,” Holmes answered with the gentle smile he saved only for me.

I couldn’t help but smile back, watching as he went and poured us each a drink. Despite the hour neither of us were tired enough to sleep. I accepted my cup and sat in my usual chair, looking at the Christmas tree we’d only got set up hours before the case sent us off. The city was quiet outside our door.

“What was Christmas like for you as a child?” asked Holmes.

I frowned, remembering free-flowing drink and trying to keep from being underfoot. The times I didn’t move fast enough and earned a strike, the times I hid away from the adults and played with my handful of soldiers an Uncle had once given to me. Or, when I grew older, wrote things I almost immediately consigned to the fire, lest they be found.

Holmes nodded before I could answer him. “We had to appear at our family functions. Perfect in every way, of course, or else, well…”

I reached over and put my hand over his. There was a reason neither of us had anything to do with our families if we could help it, though I knew Holmes did bear a fondness for his brother he kept carefully concealed.

“What matters is Christmas now,” I said quietly. After all, we wanted to come home, spend the day with one another. Spend the day safe and secure in a love that had been tested through the worst fires and survived.

Holmes sipped his drink, then set it aside and moved to my lap. I wrapped my arms around his slender waist, holding him gently. Neither of us were young men anymore, but it didn’t matter. It was my privilege to grow old by his side.

He sighed softly, resting against my shoulder. I thought of the vagaries of life, all the things that might have led me another direction, the almost-was, the not-quites. Instead, I had him in my arms and a warm fire and a life I never would have dared dream of as a child.

We did not speak of love, not aloud. A lifetime of caution was still something difficult to overcome, even here. But words weren’t needed. I could read his love for me as easily as he could read mine for him. I turned my head and kissed him gently, running fingers through his hair. “We should go to bed,” I murmured.

“I suppose you’re right,” he muttered, unmoving.

“More often than you think,” I said fondly, shifting him until he stood, then getting to my feet and taking his hand. We went down the hall to what had once been my room alone, but was now ours.

I faced him in the dim light and raised his hand to my lips. “You don’t have to be lonely,” I murmured. “Not anymore.”

He cupped my cheek with his free hand. “And you don’t have to be afraid,” he said, just as quietly.

I leaned up and kissed him, sighing. He was right, of course. I was a grown man now and my father was long dead and buried, but I’d be lying if I said I never felt his specter.

Holmes broke the kiss and looked into my eyes. I held his gaze for a long moment but finally turned away, reaching for my collar and starting to undress. He did the same and I relaxed into the familiar ritual, getting into bed as he finished his own preparations.

Finally, he joined me, equally nude. I pulled Holmes close to me and kissed him again, moving over him and settling between his thighs. He smiled softly and rolled his hips, the slide of our manhoods together making us both groan.

“You are mine,” I said. A promise, an oath as certain as the sunrise. “And I am yours.”

He leaned up to kiss me and I met him eagerly, slipping my tongue into his mouth and carding my fingers through his hair. The dance was familiar but no less delightful for it. 

Holmes spread himself wider for me, drawing up his knees, wanting to be filled and claimed. I reached for the oil by our bed and then knelt back, admiring the lines of his body in the semi-darkness.

“Beautiful,” I murmured, coating my fingers and pressing two into him.

His eyes slipped closed, arching against my touch, his cock full against his belly. He writhed slowly as I worked him open, knowing he didn’t need much preparation, that he wanted to feel me. Moonlight danced across his skin, softening the angles of his body. I wished that I could capture him in these moments, a picture more reliable than memory.

Finally, I withdrew my fingers and wiped them on the bed. I moved forward again, kissing him once more as I took myself in hand.

He adjusted his hips for me and I pressed forward until I was in to the hilt. He gasped in a breath, then another more slowly as I held myself still and watched his face.

When Holmes was ready he nodded. I braced myself over him, steadily chasing my pleasure until he took himself in hand, stroking himself in time with my thrusts. There were few things more beautiful than watching my Holmes fall apart, to know that I was driving him to such heights of ecstasy. Eyes screwed tightly shut, hair falling loose, lips parted as he panted.

He moaned my Christian name as he came, the sound barely above a whisper. I kissed my name from his lips, then redoubled my own efforts, losing rhythm as I reached my peak, gathering him in my arms as I filled him with wave after wave.

The world echoed with quiet in the wake of our lovemaking. Holmes ran fingers through my damp hair as our heart rates slowed. I felt him shiver as the winter air settled around him. Kissing him once more I carefully withdrew myself and went for a cloth to clean us up.

I put on my nightshirt and handed him his as I wiped his belly clean. He pulled it on and I got back into bed, drawing the blankets over us. He rolled onto his side to face me, taking my hands in his. “I am… very grateful for you,” he said quietly.

My heart ached, hearing the words he couldn’t say. “You make my life complete,” I answered.

He smiled softly, sadly and leaned in to kiss me once more. I kissed him in return, then rolled onto my back and settled him against my side, where he belonged.

I listened to Holmes fall asleep, but I lay awake, thinking of Christmas’s past for us both. But he was right, now there was no fear, no loneliness, just the simple surety of love freely given.


End file.
